Love Bites
by Oni Mathier
Summary: Why taking the extra minute to look in the mirror before a meeting should be a part of any Autobot Officer's regular schedule.


**Love Bites**

Transformers (G1) Verse  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Prowl, Jazz

_Warnings:_ mech/mech fluff hints

_Disclaimer:_ I've said it before and I will say it again, I do not own Transformers. :)

* * *

Prowl tried to ignore it.

Tried valiantly and succeeded for the first part of the meeting, but by the second hour his much proclaimed self-control was nearing its limits. He felt eyes on him again and was hard pressed not to flinch and return the look.

For the better part of the Autobot's strategy meeting with the United States' senior military officers, some three-star General (that Prowl had easily misplaced the designation of) had been…staring. At. Him. He could understand being focused upon when he was reporting on his latest strategy to better defend the U.S.' resources from the Decepticons, but it had continued on past his presentation while he quietly sat next to Optimus Prime. While this normally would not have perturbed the tactician, the fact that the squat human male would not turn his attention elsewhere was grating on him.

That and the odd look that was accompanying the stare.

The need to glare intensified.

It also did not help that he could feel faints tickles of amusement from his bond mate a few seats down from him as he 'listened' into Prowl's thoughts, which were currently switching between annoyance and maiming. The black and white made sure to let his bonded _know_ exactly how he felt about _that_. There was a quiet "Meep!" from the other black and white as he sat up straight, which the tactician gave a slight smirk of satisfaction to. And then his temporary distraction was gone and he could simply feel _the stare_ fixate upon him again.

A door wing twitched.

Finally giving into the now overwhelming urge, he directed his focus to the small organic and met his surprised eyes. _Caught!_ Fighting the glare that was lurking at the back of his optics (it would not do to scare the local native's higher ups) he raised an optic ridge at the grey-haired man. Looking decidedly nervous, the small man cleared his throat, adjusting his collar and looking anywhere, but at the second-in-command. Frowning slightly, Prowl turned his attention back to the Prime as he rumbled on about collaboration between the Autobots and their U.S. counterparts, as well as opening more lines of communication between the two parties. Prowl nodded along to certain points, as well as other officers at the table. Overall, the meeting was going well (content-wise).

Reaching the end of their agenda, Prime closed the discussion neatly, shaking hands (or more like one of Prime's digits) with the Secretary of Defense and a few of his colleagues before both mech and human alike vacated their seats. Some stretched and lingered to speak to their peers, while others gathered their belongings and waited for Red Alert to escort them out of the Ark.

Prowl was finishing stacking his assorted datapads and had just pushed back from his seat when he heard the General something-or-rather ask one of his colleagues in a low (but not low enough for Autobot audios) voice, "If I didn't know any better, I would say that that black and white one with the wing-looking things has a hickey or something on his neck." The tactician tensed at the statement, hearing a few rumbles from _his _colleagues as they had just as clearly heard what he had. He shot them a sharp look and they all hastened to be otherwise occupied (or at least look the part). Waiting for the humans to finish migrating out of the conference room, he cautiously reached a servo to his neck cables and found (to his complete and utter horror) an indentation along one of his main energon lines just the right size for a Cybertronian's mouth. More specifically – the bite radius of a Cybertronian.

More snickers met his audios and he deigned to unleash the full force of the glare that he had been harboring throughout the meeting, at the saboteur leaning against the table a few meters from him.

"Jazz." The name came out more as a growl than a designation. His bond mate at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed (not that it helped his case much when he still had that damnable grin on his faceplates).

"Yes, Prowl?" He answered, vocals an octave slightly higher than normal. The second could feel the electrical charge of the atmosphere as the rest of his fellow Autobot Officers waited for his reaction. Even the great and noble Optimus Prime seemed to be lingering around for no particular reason. Afts. All of them.

"No. More. Quickies."

With that, Prowl turned gracefully on his heel and walked out of that conference room, helm held high, shoulders and door wings back with as much dignity as he could manage. An especially difficult feat with a Cybertronian's equivalent of a hickey firmly planted on his throat for everyone to see.

He only got halfway down the hall before a chorus of guffaws broke out, followed by an "Awwwww…" from a certain black and white miscreant.

_A/N: Yeah...don't know where this came from, but hopefully it garners a laugh or two. I'm not picky. ;)_


End file.
